


enchantments that can sway his mind

by Prim_the_Amazing



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Love Potion/Spell, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing
Summary: Jester’s tail goes high, twisting with a sudden creeping sort of unease, even though that doesn’t make any sense, there’s nothing to be worried about. “Put what in who’s drink?” she asks.“That handsome green half orc you’re always drawing for me looking so dashing,” he says, teasing, playful, friendly. “I put a potion in his drink so that he would fall in love with you.”“You did what,” Jester says.





	enchantments that can sway his mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DigitalMeowMix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalMeowMix/gifts).



The floor rocks steadily underneath her with the waves, like the Squall-eater is one big crib, except for a whole bunch of stinky pirates instead of one cute stinky baby. She’s got her arms crossed on the bannister, leaning towards the Traveler like a flower towards the sun. He’s been visiting less and less ever since she left her home, and she misses him keenly. It’s good to see him again. It’s good to see him and have him especially now, when she got taken away from her mama before she could even say goodbye because they made a bunch of mistakes and killed some people and now _Avantika’s_ holding them hostage.

Is talking to Fjord in private in her room. She’s trying not to think about that. It’s all such a mess.

“Listen. Listen to what piques his interest. And then happen to be the source when he needs it,” the Traveler advises her. He puts a warm hand on her shoulder, and she warms and relaxes even though the salty sea breeze is brisk and chill. “If that fails, there are plenty of enchantments that can sway his mind.”

“I mean, right? You’ll help me out with that?” she asks, all uncertain but hopeful swaying tail. She doesn’t want to _make_ Fjord fall in love with her or anything, she’d rather just be so charming that it happened on its own. But it all feels much more possible with the Traveler on her side. She feels safer and more confident with him behind her. She can do it! She’ll seduce Fjord, and marry him, and everything’s going to be _great._

The enchantment thing, she dismisses as a joke. The Traveler loves jokes.

“I’ll do my best.”

He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

 

Weeks pass, shit keeps happening, and Jester quietly lets her hopes sink to the bottom of the ocean floor and leaves them there. She still gets distracted and warm and silly if she looks at Fjord’s handsome face for too long, still worries for him sharply and deeply, still supports him with all that she has, but she doesn’t think with any sort of dreamy confidence _yes, he will kiss me, yes, he will marry me, yes, we will be together forever, just because I love him, just because that feels like it should be enough, just because I want it badly enough._

Her mama had loved her dad, enough to quit her job and move and change her whole life, and he had left her. Jester had always thought it was because the magic wore off and his legs became a tail again and he couldn’t live on the land any longer, or that a witch cursed him to a deep sleep until his true love or his brave daughter came along to save him, but actually, in fact, in truth, he’s just some sweaty threatening crime guy who wanted to run a mafia in Zadash instead of being married to the _Ruby of the Sea._ Being in love with someone isn’t enough to make them love you back, no matter how much you feel it.

And that’s sad and it hurts but its reality, so she’ll deal, she’ll be fine. She still has her friends (who keep almost dying, who sometimes _do),_ and the Traveler (who is visiting her less and less), and her mama (who she can only send short messages to before going to bed and worry over and miss for the rest of the day), and Fjord likes her even if he doesn’t love her (and that doesn’t make her want to crush something or cry at _all)._ That’s life, and honestly she’s got it pretty good! She’s got nothing to be sad about! So what if her dad’s a jerk! So what if she isn't loved back! Whatever! She’s _fine._ Great! Fantastic! Absolutely perfect.

Jester viciously pokes at the coals in the hearth of their Xhorhouse, livening up the fire. Some pretty drow lady had flirted with Fjord earlier today while he’d been acting smooth and charming, and she’d had to watch him blush and stutter for five minutes straight over it. Usually him getting flustered was when the flirter would lose interest and back off, but this lady had apparently thought it was _cute_ and it had made her _more_ interested. Jester had sat there, too angry and alarmed and sad to even move, Fjord too embarrassed to extract himself from the conversation, and in the end Nott had had to pretend to _accidentally_ set Fjord’s pants on fire to mercifully euthanize the conversation while winking very obviously at Jester, which had just been humiliating and awful.

It had been a shitty afternoon. She stabs at the coals again.

A flutter of familiar green at the corner of her eye, and she whips around and drops the poker to the floor when she sees him.

He smiles and holds up a finger to his lips, a playful _shh._ She stands up and presses her hands down over her mouth and screams silently into them, bouncing up and down on her toes, hair swaying, _excited._ She’s missed him so much!

The day is suddenly much less shittier. She throws her arms around him, biting her tongue so she won’t start gushing. He wants for her to be quiet for some reason, and it's probably going to be hilarious. She’s not gonna ruin his prank!

“My Jester,” he whispers fondly into her ear, one of his hands playing with her blue hair, and for this moment she’s just purely _happy,_ with no complications or buts. “I hate to see you sad.”

She freezes, tries to pull away enough to look him in the eyes. He squeezes his arms around her and keeps her close. “I’m not sad,” she hurries to say. “I’m sorry if I’ve been mopey or boring--”

He sets his chin on top of her head, between her horns. “You could never bore me,” he says softly, and relief makes her dizzy and teary. She sniffs and tries to blink it away. Traveler’s the whimsical, curious, adventurous, _fun_ god. She’s not going to cry on him the first time he’s visited her in months. She’s going to be great company and he’s going to enjoy it so much that he’ll come back again soon.

“Good,” she says, making her voice as firm and carefree as she can. His hand runs through the hair at the back of her head.

“I’m here to give you a gift,” he says.

She perks up, and this time he lets her take half a step back so she can look up into his shadowed face. “A gift?” she asks, tail up, intrigued.

The Traveler chuckles, endeared. “I _did_ promise that I’d help you with this, after all.”

She tilts her head to the side. Sometimes the Traveler references something they said or did together months or even _years_ ago like it happened just yesterday. “Help me with what?”

“I already put it into his drink,” he says, grinning. “He didn’t even see me.”

Jester’s tail goes high, twisting with a sudden creeping sort of unease, even though that doesn’t make any sense, there’s nothing to be worried about. “Put _what_ in _who’s_ drink?” she asks.

“That handsome green half orc you’re always drawing for me looking so dashing,” he says, teasing, playful, friendly. “I put a potion in his drink so that he would fall in love with you.”

“You did what,” Jester says.

“Problem solved,” the Traveler says, hands out as if to say _see? That simple._ “Oh, but you’ll have to hurry, it’s the first person that he _sees_ after he drinks it that it works for. Best hurry before he falls for the goblin or the lesbian!”

About a dozen different words try to trip out her mouth all at once, so that in the end she just makes this stammering confused panicked noise that sounds like a whole different words mashed together in a way that doesn’t make sense. The Traveler laughs and boops her nose. “You’re welcome, dear.”

And then he disappears. Jester stares at the empty space where he had been for one long moment, and then she _runs._

“FJORD,” she hollers, slamming past corners and jumping down stairs four at a time. “FJORD, DON’T DRINK IT!”

She slams open the doors for the War Room, the Happy Room, but he isn’t there. She shoulder slams open the door to the kitchen, which maybe wasn’t necessary since it can’t lock but she can’t afford to lose her momentum now, and there he is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea with Caduceus. She doesn’t stop running, jumps up onto the table, and rips the cup out of his hands before throwing it out of the window like it’s a bomb.

“DID YOU DRINK IT!?” she asks him, her hands going up to his face to yank him in close, his cheeks smushing up in a way that she’d think is adorable if the situation wasn’t _very urgent_ right now.

“Uhhh,” he says, wide eyed and looking up at her where she’s kneeling on the table in front of him, breathing heavily from her alarmed sprint.

“Yes,” Caduceus says mildly. “He did.”

Jester goes from Urgent to Horrified. “Um,” she squeaks. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused?” Fjord says, voice muffled by her squishing his face up like its putty. She lets go of him and he leans back in his chair, still staring at her.

 _Staring_ at _her._ Oh no. Oh no, no, no, nooooooo, no way.

He tilts his head to the side, curiosity and concern in his eyes. “Jester, are you okay?”

“Did you put something into his drink?” Caduceus asks curiously, still sipping at his own tea.

She chokes. “What, no! I-- _I’d_ never _put something_ in Fjord’s _drink,_ what a,” she raises her voice meaningfully so that any listening gods may hear, “TERRIBLE THING THAT WOULD BE. Really just like, wow, what an awful idea that would be. Anyone who _did_ put something in Fjord’s drink would realize that it was a mistake almost immediately anyways and fix, um, whatever the first thing in his drink did.”

“I think maybe Nott put something in your tea,” Caduceus says.

Fjord looks alarmed. “Like what? Booze? Spit?”

“Laxatives, maybe?” Caduceus muses.

“Nott didn’t put anything in your drink!” she says, and then laughs long and awkwardly as she gets off the table and starts backing away, not turning her back on them. “Just, um, just a little prank! A funny joke, you know? I was kidding! Yeah. Don’t worry about it! Everything’s fine! Bye!”

She leaves the kitchen.

“That,” Fjord says, “was very weird.”

Caduceus shrugs. “If you say so. Do you want a refill?”

 

Okay okay okay okay okay okay okay. So her god spiked Fjord’s tea with a love potion to make him fall in love with her. Everything’s going to be okay! She can fix this!

“Traveler,” she hisses inside of her room, wanting to shout but also not wanting to let the whole house find out about what just happened before she can _fix it._ “That is not what I meant! I don’t want this! Put it back the way it was!”

Her Traveler, so much busier than he used to be, so much more absent, doesn’t reply. She deflates like a popped balloon and sits down on her bed, putting her face in her hands. She groans, long and low.

“I wanted for him to like me for _me,_ you know?” she says, muffled into her palms, her tail a dead limp thing on the covers behind her. “It doesn’t feel the same if I’m making him. It feels kinda… mean. Right? Do you get it?”

No reply. He isn’t listening. He’s too busy for her. Jester feels like shit.

There’s a knock at her door. “Come in,” she says miserably, because really why not.

Fjord opens the door, looking hesitant. “Hey, Jessie,” he says, and she sits up straight and looks at him wide eyed, belatedly giving him a nervous, tense smile. “You seemed a bit, ah, out of sorts, so I thought that I’d check in on you. You okay?”

“Yeah of course,” she says, voice too high. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? Why would anything be wrong at all? Everything’s great!”

“Okay…” he says, squinting at her suspiciously so her heart trips in her chest.

Fjord is paying attention to her and being nice, but he does that sometimes already, because he’s a good friend. Maybe he’s okay? Maybe the potion was swirling around at the bottom of the cup? Maybe he’d only drunk it before it had been tampered? That would be _really_ nice, if that was the case. There’d be nothing to feel bad about then, except for the usual stuff, which she’s used to.

He walks over to her and sits next to her on the bed, puts a hand on her shoulder and leans in close to give her a serious, vulnerable look. “You know that you can tell me anything, right? I’d help you, whatever it is.”

Her heart in her throat, she nods numbly. He smells like that seawater he’s always getting doused with when he summons his falchion, like Caduceus’ tea, like _Fjord._ He’s close enough that she can count his individual eyelashes, see the beautiful imperfections in his irises. Close enough that when he talks his breath washes over his face, and it smells _nice._ Whose breath actually smells nice? Fjord’s, apparently.

“I, um,” she says, feeling clammy and hot, like she sometimes does when Fjord gets too close and too kind. Not quite that fluttery giggly swooping feeling she gets when he takes off his shirt for some reason that makes her feel nervous but in a giddy excited way, but something closer to the heart. Which is worse, really. “I’m just… worried. About the Traveler.”

“Oh,” Fjord says, brow crumpling with concern. “He not around so much, still?”

“Yeah,” she says, mouth dry. “And when he is, he does some weird stuff.” Like _magically drug her crush._

Fjord bites his bottom lip, worry clear on his face, and she desperately looks into his eyes to get away from his lips, his tusks. “If your god ever, uh… goes _bad,_ you let me know, alright? I’ve got one of those, after all.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” she says hoarsely, his hand a hot iron on her shoulder. He’s so much warmer than her. She laughs, trying to defuse the tension, to get that frown off his face. “I don’t think he’s going to go all Uk’otoa on us, though. He’s just kind of a weirdo.”

“Alright,” he says, not sounding entirely reassured, but he smiles back at her. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“I am,” she says firmly, not wanting for him to worry.

And his arm on her shoulder curls around her back, brings her in close for a hug against his chest. He gives her a one armed squeeze, his chin nestled between her horns.

“You mean the world to me, Jester,” he says, slipping into his fancy voice, his real voice, and it steals her breath away. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you’re ever in trouble, please.”

“Of course,” she lies, somehow sounding normal. She’s a pretty good liar. “You too.”

“Of course,” he agrees with her, and leaves with a soft smile over his shoulder like she’s special to him.

The moment the door closes, she collapses onto the bed, digging her nails into the bedding, face hot, heart aching. “Traveler,” she keens despairingly. “How could you, you big idiot?”

He’s definitely enchanted.

 

She’s always paid a lot of attention to Fjord, the things he does, the things he says. But in the ensuing days, she is _keenly_ aware of him. She tries to read into every little thing he does and says, to try and figure out just how bad he’s got it, if it’s fading, if he realizes that something’s up. It’s subtle, so subtle that she probably wouldn’t even notice it if she wasn’t looking for it. She notices that he always makes a point of holding the door open for her if he gets the opportunity. To pull out her chair for her, to have her back in a fight or an argument, to respond to one of her jokes with either a fond smile or playing along. He always looks to her first. He always runs to her first, if she’s hurt. He doesn’t look at her the way he looks at Beau or Caleb. It’s different. It’s special.

It’s not the beautiful confessions or dramatic acts of love that she’s read about, but it’s there and it permeates every interaction he has with her, like he loves her as easily and matter of factly as he needs to breathe.

All of it makes her heart hurt so much that she’s afraid she might cry, except she’s very, very good at not crying. Fjord finally loves her back, and it doesn’t even count, isn’t even real. It’s a trick. And not even a funny one. It’s a selfish, mean trick and the Traveler must not understand and she prays to him every evening and every morning to put Fjord back the way he was, that she doesn’t want it this way. She doesn’t want it at all, if it isn’t freely given.

He doesn’t answer.

“You okay, Jester?” Beau asks her after they’ve blown out the lights and gone to bed.

“Fine,” she says. It’s easier to put fake cheer into her voice when it’s so dark that she doesn’t have to bother with a fake smile as well.

“You’ve seemed kind of… bummed out lately, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to,” she says, backpedaling like she’s overstepped. Jester turns onto her side so that she’s facing Beau, looking at her from across their room, lying in her own bed. She’s still not used to not sharing a bed with Beau, like they do in inns. At least they’re still roommates. Beau can’t see her in the dark, but Jester can. She looks upset, that Jester isn’t telling her what’s making her sad, but ready to swallow it down and go to sleep. Guilt twists in her stomach, and appreciation in her chest. Beau wants for her to not only be happy and easy with her. Being honest with her is what makes her happy.

Beau’s a pretty good friend.

“I’m worried about Fjord,” she says softly. It feels easier, that Beau can’t see her face.

Beau’s expression sharpens. “Because of Uk’otoa?”

“No. Not because of him.” Because of _her_ god. Because _she_ asked him for help. “I’m afraid I might have… done something bad to him.”

“Like what?” Beau asks, soft and curious, wanting to understand.

“Made him feel a way he’s not supposed to feel. That he doesn’t want to.”

“... How? With magic?”

“Yeah.”

“He seems fine to me. Totally normal.”

Yeah, well, she hasn’t been paying as close attention to him as Jester has. “He’s different,” she argues. “I would’ve noticed if he was acting like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m… special.”

“Jess,” Beau says. “You are special.”

“I know, I know, but--”

“And you’re special to him. Didn’t you know?”

Her stomach twists. She’d thought that once. Had just assumed, because he was special to her, because he was nice to her. But then he’d slept with Avantika and the weight of him never actually responding to her flirting except with a bashful clearing of his throat finally piled up and got to be too high of a pile, too much to ignore or dismiss. She’s not special to him. She’s a good friend. And she loves having friends! Fjord’s a great friend!

She just has to stop herself from always wanting to lean in and kiss him, to want to be special to him, to be more, closer. Just look where it’s got her. Fjord, enchanted, tricked, all for her own happiness.

“Nevermind,” she says unhappily, abruptly and intensely not wanting to talk about this anymore, to having to argue for the fact that Fjord doesn’t love her. Beau loves her too much to be objective about it, which is nice of her, but it hurts right now. “I’m tired. Can we go to sleep?”

“... Okay, Jess. But you are special.”

She makes a noise that Beau hopefully takes as agreement, and they drop it.

 

Xhorhas, once you’re not nestled in one of the safe cities full of guards, is _insanely_ dangerous. The wildlife here is _crazy._

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PUNCH THIS,” Beau howls, after her staff gets melted just from touching the large… swamp slime thing. The blunt impact didn’t even hurt it, just passed through it.

 _“Firebolt,”_ Caleb says intently, and the thing howls disturbingly as it steams and boils, noxious fumes coming up from it that makes Yasha sway and stagger when she accidentally breathes some of it in. Caduceus heals her before Jester has to.

“Oh fuck, it’s immune to arrows too!” Nott shrieks.

And it can also, apparently, _spit acid_ a _really far_ way, as Jester unfortunately finds out first hand. She blacks out so fast she doesn’t even have time to scream.

She wakes up feeling groggy and confused to Fjord’s face leaning over her, an empty bottle in his hand, Yasha roaring in the distance over the ringing in her ears.

“Jester,” he says, looking so, so relieved to see her, holding her close, and a rare beam of sunlight is shining down on him, haloing him, and she’s never wanted to draw something so much in her life.

She doesn’t have her sketchbook on hand though, so she thinks she might as well do the next best thing and lean up and taste him--

Traveler. Potion. She flinches back, wincing, before she does something really bad.

“You got hit real bad,” Fjord says softly. “You should probably do a quick Cure Wounds on yourself.”

“Yeah, uh huh, got it,” she says, trying to get a look at the monster fight so she doesn’t have to look at him. Nott has started throwing explosives at it, and it seems to be working.

He helps her up to her feet, holding her close, his skin hot on hers. He’s in love with her. It’s fake. She runs recklessly into battle, desperate to fill her head up with more bloody thoughts than his smile and his eyes.

Fjord has her back.

 

When she volunteers for a watch, Fjord jumps to take it with her. The familiar jolt of love and guilt sparks through her chest. She’s special to him, except she’s not.

She makes sure to put a good three feet between them when they sit down to watch the perimeter, after Yasha gently woke her up for her turn. The stars are bright, the campfire is softly flickering, and it all feels far too peaceful, quiet, and intimate. She wishes she could crack a fart joke without waking their friends to break the tension.

“That was a close call for you, back there,” Fjord says.

“I guess so,” she says. To be honest, she’s gotten used to almost dying by now. If Fjord hadn’t gotten to her in time, Caduceus would have. She would’ve been fine, even if it was kind of scary and hurt a lot.

Adventuring doesn’t get any less scary, Jester has found out. You just get used to being scared, so it’s kind of not as bad. Technically.

Fjord’s hand is on top of hers, she realizes. She jolts a little, and looks up at him with wide eyes, cheeks going hot. The firelight looks soft and warm on his face, his eyes, his achingly tentative sincere expression. He looks like he’s fighting to keep looking into her eyes instead of bashfully casting his gaze to the side, forcing himself not to make the conversation more casual, comfortable and safe.

She can’t tell herself that he just put his hand on hers by accident. The potion. That face. The way he leans down towards her. She’s frozen. His breath, his lovely breath washes over her lips and somehow makes them _tingle._

He closes his eyes and kisses her. His lips are soft and dry, and she can feel the gentle press of his tusks. It lasts for maybe three earth shattering seconds, and then he draws back to look at her, almost immediately losing his battle to keep his gaze on her face and not the ground. He puts his free hand on the back of his head, like he’s nervous, embarrassed.

“I, uh,” he stutters, fumbles. “I just wanted to do that, just once, just in case, you know? Since we live dangerous lives, and you had a close one today, and-- you might not, _I_ might not keep making it. So. Seemed a might bit foolish, to keep holding back forever.” He looks up at her nervously, hopefully. “Do you--?”

She rips her hand away from his. His expression crumples. She feels like she just got the breath punched out of her at the sight of it.

“Oh,” she says, and shit, her eyes are burning, no, stop it, don’t go and make everything _even worse._ “Oh no, Fjord, don’t be sad!”

“It’s fine--” Fjord says, looking away, drawing away from her, drifting like an unmoored boat away from shore.

“No,” she says, desperately grabbing at his shoulders, keeping him seated, close, not letting him go. “You don’t understand, I’m not, you’re not--”

He smiles at her, and it is such a painfully perfect and polished smile, friendly and slightly sheepish and fake fake fake. Like she’s a stranger he’s trying to con. She’d thought her heart was already broken, but apparently she was wrong, because that smile is grinding the shards into dust in her chest.

“It’s okay,” he says firmly, voice warm and smooth and it’s _awful._ “You don’t gotta apologize or make me feel better, Jester.”

The traitorous tears in her eyes spill over, and that’s what finally makes his mask crack, concern spilling out over the edges like her tears. She hides her face in her hands, so ashamed of herself. What kind of friend would ask for this? What kind of good person? What kind of person who is _in love?_ You shouldn’t do this to someone you love. Not ever. His broad warm hands settle lightly on her shoulders, the back of her head, like he’s unsure of his welcome, and she can’t stop herself from leaning into the comforting embrace even though she doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice going ragged and honest. “I thought-- I’ve _never_ wanted to make you unhappy, Jester. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says, her voice so terrible weak and thin and wobbly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Uh, it kinda is,” Fjord says, running a hand soothingly through her hair. She sobs a laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be the one who gets rejected,” she explains, face wet. _“I’m_ the one who should be apologizing, who should be getting rejected. I’m the one who loves you. It’s not fair to you that I made you be in this position. It isn’t yours.”

His hand, that had been rubbing comforting circles onto her back, goes still. “Jester?” he asks, uncertain, confused.

She sniffs up all of the snot that wants to come leaking out of her nose like a big gross baby, and stops hugging him. He looked into her eyes when he confessed what he thought was his real feelings. She should do him the same favor.

“You’re not in love with me,” she tells him.

After a moment of staring at her, he says, “Um. I am, actually.”

The broken shards in her chest twinge at that, but she ignores it with practice. “No, you’re not,” she informs him firmly. “I asked the Traveler for help with getting you to notice me and then he decided to put a love potion in your tea to make you fall in love with me because he doesn’t entirely understand how mortals work, I’m pretty sure. You’re enchanted, Fjord.”

He blinks at her, long and slow. “... I’d… _notice_ if I was enchanted… right?” he says uneasily.

“Clearly, you haven’t,” she says.

“When did this happen?” he asks her.

“Two weeks ago,” she says.

And for some reason, Fjord relaxes. He even laughs a little, relieved and dizzy. “Oh, that’s alright then. Jester, I’ve been in love with you for longer than just _two weeks.”_

She stares at him. “No, you haven’t,” she says, hardly recognizing her own voice, feeling like someone else is speaking for her. “The love potion made you fall in love with me.”

“I was already in love with you,” Fjord insists. He smiles at her. “You said that you’re in love with me too…?”

“The love potion is just making you think that,” she says, and her voice is going high and sharp now, unsteady. Her eyes are burning, there’s something lodged in the back of her throat, and she doesn’t even know what her tail is doing any longer. This potion is cruel. She hates it, it’s awful, she’s _so mad_ at the Traveler--

He frowns down at her, his smile getting washed away by seriousness. “It’s not the potion,” he says, firm as iron. “I’m really in love with you.”

“You just think that,” she says. She can’t let herself fall for this lie for a _second._ It’s going to hurt so, so much worse that way.

He chews on his lip for a second, thinking heavy thoughts. And then he abruptly stands up, and walks over to the rest of her group. She remembers to start breathing. When she places her hands on her chest, she can feel that her heart is still there despite everything, whole and _thundering._

There’s a splash of water from the camp, followed by Zemnian swearing. She blinks the tears out of her eyes and looks up, confused, as Fjord comes back, this time dragging a groggy and grumpy Caleb with him.

“Are we under attack?” Caleb asks, water dripping from his copper hair. Somehow, despite herself, she spurts a laugh at the sight of him, even though its considerably waterlogged.

“No,” Fjord says. “Cast Detect Magic on me.”

“Why?” Caleb asks.

“Because I want to see if there’s magic on me, Caleb,” Fjord says longsufferingly. Caleb gives him a glare, looking rather like a half drowned cat.

“Please?” Fjord tries, very apparently not putting any actual effort into being charming or persuasive.

“Will you let me sleep after?” Caleb asks.

“Of course.” Fjord nods. Caleb sighs and starts casting Detect Magic on him.

Jester thinks about if they can find a way to dispel the magic on Fjord. Without having Yasha stab him with Magician’s Judge. Maybe they’ll have to go on a quest to cure him. Will he still be friends with her, after? Or will he just be… fake friends, where he’s perfectly polite and courteous to her all of the time, all flawless smiles and manners.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to stand it. What is she going to do!? She tugs at her hair despairingly, thinking, thinking--

“You’re clear,” Caleb says, arms flopping down to his sides as he turns to leave.

“What?” Jester asks, mind blank.

“He doesn’t have any magic on him, except for his artifacts,” Caleb says, and trudges over to his sleeping matt and collapses.

 _“What?”_ Jester repeats.

There’s no love potion, but-- all of those tender looks, those warm smiles, those considerate moments, that _kiss--_

Fjord holds his hands out, as if presenting himself. He smiles at her, coaxing if still a little tentative. “See?” he asks. “I am one hundred percent bona fide in real actual love with you.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “If that’s, uh, if that’s something you’re interested in-- reciprocating--”

Jester jumps up from the rock she’s sitting on, leaps onto him, and kisses him so enthusiastically that he falls onto the ground with a squawk and they wake up over half of the group. Caleb rolls over and grumbles.

 

 _“Traveler,”_ she says later when their watch is over and Fjord is asleep at her side, her arms around him because she hasn’t been able to make herself stop touching him yet. She’s not pleading or frustrated now. She’s smiling the way she does when she recognizes that someone got one over her _good_ and she’s impressed and also _very_ eager to return the favor. “You _minx.”_

There’s a warm chuckle in her ear, like the wind rustling a cloak. “You were so determined not to get your hopes up again that you weren’t seeing what was plain in front of you,” he says, fond and unapologetic. “So I just had to get you to look for it. You’re welcome.”

“You’re such a dick,” she says. Fjord is asleep in her arms and he loves her, and her god is chuckling at her back and loves her and helped her, and the night is warm and starry and beautiful, all of her friends close and safe around her. She can’t stop smiling, even though no one can see it when she’s got her face pressed up against the back of Fjord’s neck. It’s all for herself.

She’s just really genuinely _happy._


End file.
